The Distance Between Dreams Page 3

  I don’t know how I make it the last five miles. My legs are noodles and I know, I know the minute I stop I will be done-zo.

  As soon as my feet cross the pavement into the parking lot, Broussard’s yell carries over to me.

  “RYAN! Your ass-over here now!”

  A few of the team are still in the lot, doing cool down stretches, pushups etc.

  I jog over to Broussard and come to parade rest. My stomach...is not ok.

  “WHAT THE FUCK, RYAN? ARE YOU ON YOUR PERIOD?”

  Ok, I knew I was last of the pack, and that would get me some ribbing. It’s the first time I had slipped up and given him something to pounce on. But sheesh, to have my ovaries become part of the conversation so fast really irks me. Something bad happenened then. I had stopped. My stomach betrays me. And it is a violent betrayal. The projectile vomit that comes up is mostly bile and water. I am fast enough to turn to my right, instead of throwing up all over Broussard. But as I watch the water- bile mix hit the pavement, I can only close my eyes in relief that my stomach muscles are no longer coming up through my throat.

  This is bad. I just threw up in front of my team. I take a deep breath in my bent over position and slowly straighten back into parade rest, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. At least my stomach feels a bit better. I can’t directly meet Broussard’s eyes, I look over his shoulder instead.

  “FUCK. Clean this up and get out of my sight, Ryan!”

  He turns and slams the door into the office after himself. The few other guys in the lot have a mix of awe, disgust, and hilarity on their faces.

  Peppers is the first one to break the silence.

  “Holy shit, Ryan! You just puked all over the CO!”

  This sets Reed and T-Rex off into peals of laughter. I give them the finger and go inside to the break room to get a pitcher of water to rinse the vomit off the pavement. I splash some on my face while I’m at it.

  I am really just relieved that Broussard hadn’t made me do push-ups into the vomit. Yea, I’d seen that once at basic. My muscles spasm in an uncontrolled full-body shake. I grab a Gatorade from the little fridge in the break room and chug it. Bad move.

  I rush into the locker room and throw it all up in technicolor neon green into the sink. I rest my forehead on the cool porcelain.

  I ponder my symptoms. It is either a stomach bug or the flu. If it is the flu, I’d be miserable for a few more days. I could try to soldier on or I could ask Gonzalez if she had some Tamiflu she could give me. Thinking about being last on the run today had me making up my mind. I ease out the front door without running into anyone and take the shortcut back to the barracks. Luckily enough Gonzalez is there putting on her shoes, getting ready to leave for work.

  “Hey, Ryan. Don’t usually see you around this early.”

  Full body shivers take over as I say, “Listen, Gonzalez. I need that stuff, the Tamiflu.” I'm sure I look pitiful.

  She looks me over.

  “You think you got the flu? Here sit down. What are your symptoms?”

  I sit on my foot locker.

  “Fever, vomiting, headache and general feeling of overall shittiness.” I tell her.

  She pulls her lanyard with her credentials over her head.

  “You do look a little green around the gills. C’mon I’ll give you a ride to the clinic. We can test to see if you have the flu for sure. Plus, Dr. Z can send over an excuse to your XO so you can get a free pass for a few days to rest up.”

  I nod my agreement. Rest probably couldn’t hurt. Plus I am no hurry to see Broussard after that puke-fest.

  One test later, it is confirmed I have the flu. The doctor gives me the Tamiflu shot, and a prescription for plenty of rest and drinking plenty of liquids.

  I walk back to the barracks- I am too proud to ask Gonzalez for a ride back from the clinic, plus it’s only about three miles. It isn’t even eleven yet. But I hit the mattress and pull the blanket over my body the second I get to my bunk. It feels phenomenal to be horizontal. That is my last thought before I sleep through the day and half the night. I wake up at 1500 with a growling stomach. I make a slice of toast with Gonzalez’s little toaster, eat it and promptly go back to sleep.

  7

  I am back at my routine by Thursday. The guys give me a good bit of ribbing, and let me know three other people have come down with the flu- including the CO, Broussard. Reed leads PT that morning, and I am happy to get my middle of pack placement back. Once we were all back and showered and in the conference room for our 0900 briefing, the fun banter begins.

  “Good thing that wasn’t morning sickness, Ryan. Hate to have caught a pregnancy!” This from Peppers, apparently our team comedian.

  I don't have a come back for him besides, “Fuck off, dickhead.”

  Creative insult, I know.

  I take a seat and wait for what else might come out of these asshole’s mouths. I love them and hate them. Good-natured jerking around is and always will be part of the team building. I understand the psychology of it, but so far they had really left off giving me too hard a time.

  “So Princess Pukey, who are you gonna barf on today?”

  This from Daniels, he is the other newbie that came on the team at the same time I did.

  “If you’re lucky, Daniels, it might be you.”

  I smile my best evil smile at him. Guffaws and “oohs” erupt.

  Seriously, these guys are worse than high-schoolers.

  Thankfully, Reed comes in then and the shit talking dies down.

  I listen as he briefs us on the next week’s training mission. But my brain is replaying the pissed off look on Broussard’s face when I had thrown up right at his feet.

  An hour or so later, we were dismissed for “brunch.” It is really just an early and long lunch break, before we have to be on the range in the early afternoon.

  As the guys began to filter out, I stand and pick up my notepad.

  “Hey Ryan,” from Reed, “You're D.D. tomorrow night. I’ll pick the van up; just meet us here at twenty hundred sharp.”

  Looks like the puke episode has actually broken the ice with the team. Go figure.

  About once a month the mostly single members of the team pile into a rented van and go out on the town to satisfy their entertainment needs by drinking and picking up women, etc. While being their chauffeur is hardly high entertainment for me, I do recognize it for what it was- an invitation to be part of the team.

  “Yes sir. Twenty hundred sharp.”

  8

  I am fifteen minutes early. The van is already parked in the lot. So is Reed’s truck. I pull open the door to the office and let it close behind me.

  The office is quiet. Reed is in the conference room, feet propped up on the table, chair tipped back and tossing something back and forth in his hands.

  “Ryan!” he says when he sees me enter.

  “Sir.”

  He slams his feet down on the floor. He is wearing civvies: jeans and a nice button down shirt. I too am wearing jeans, but I had thrown my favorite caramel leather jacket on over my black t-shirt. My black scarf and cross trainers complete the outfit. And oh yea. I had put on mascara. It was the only concession to makeup I think I could make without risking them tearing me to pieces over it.

  “Are you wearing makeup, Princess Ryan?”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest.

  “Sir. We are going to a bar. Thought it best if I at least tried to fit in.”

  He comes around the table and throws an arm over my shoulder, while handing me a set of keys. He pulls me in close so my ear is next to his mouth.

  “Good idea, Ryan. Blending in with…girls.”

  I elbow him in the ribs, not holding back.

  “Nice. You’ll really fit in with punches like that,” he says.

  He turns back when he reaches the door, “C’mon. The rest of the guys should be here any minute.”

  Out in the parking lot the guys trickle in. First Daniels, then Kelley
, T-Rex, Peppers, Meaty and Hanzo. I feel a bubble of disappointment that Broussard isn’t among the group. I squash that feeling down as soon as I recognize it and reach for the handle of the driver’s side door. T-Rex is next to me suddenly, pushing my hand away, while opening it for himself to get in. T-Rex is by far the biggest guy on the team, but he turns around when he realizes I haven’t moved to the passenger side.

  “Get in, Princess. A’int no woman I’ll let drive me when I’m sober.”

  “Ha. You can drive if you can get the keys from me, and we all know I’m faster then you.”

  I dodge out of his lunge range.

  The other guys are already inside the van. Reed yells from his position in the front passenger seat, “C’mon T! All the rest of us are ready to go, pussies are waiting, drinks are chillin.”

  T-Rex makes another half lunge at me.

  I laugh and dance back from him. I can see the frustration in his eyes. Whoops, this is getting real – I am teasing the bear.

  The guys start getting restless and start chanting, “Get in. Get in. Get in.”

  On the third unsuccessful attempt of taking the keys from me, T throws his hands up and walks to the other side of the van and gets in. I make sure his door is closed and he is buckled before sliding into the driver’s seat.

  I put the van in reverse and turn around to watch as I back the behemoth out of it’s spot. The guy’s faces are a comical mix of eagerness for tonight’s entertainment, trepidation at letting me drive, and quiet don’t-say-anything-in-front-of-the-girl mentality.

  I ease down on the gas a little, then abruptly hit the brakes. Silence reigns in the van. I start laughing. This is just too hilarious. These men scared of my driving. Real badasses.

  I put the van in gear and put the pedal to the metal so to speak.

  I yell at them, “Loosen up, Pussies! I promise you’ll enjoy the ride!”

  The van is slow to gain any speed with it’s cumbersome load of seven heavy-hitting SEALs and minimal engine power- but we were off.

  9

  The first bar we go to is just off Water Street in Norfolk. It is a hole in the wall kind of place, and I think the best part about it is that you can see the ships parked across the river. There are a few patrons when we arrive, and I suck soda water and lime while the guys down beers and play pool. They have a dartboard, and eventually the quietness of the bar has me up and throwing darts just to ease the bit of restlessness inside me.

  Thankfully, (or maybe unfortunately) the bar never picks up, and we have been here an hour. We load up and head further inland to an Irish pub called Flynn’s. It is livelier with a raucous mixed crowd of men and women. The guys order drinks and stand around the bar, while I move deeper into the crowd hoping to snag a booth or high top table- but the chances look slim in this crowd.

  When I reach the end of the bar, I literally bump into an old marine buddy- my shoulder to his chest- as he had quickly spun around from where he was standing at the bar with his group.

  “Holy Shit. Everly Ryan. What the fuck you doing here?” is Shawn Connolly’s greeting.

  “Chip, you fucker!” I practically yell it in my excitement- but in the crowded room it seems to be the right pitch for him to hear. I give him a hug and pull away while faking a punch at his jaw. He playfully dodges.

  I had chipped Shawn’s tooth back when we were in the marines. We were playing some drinking game that involved throwing punches to see who could bleed first. The guys hadn’t wanted me to play, but I persuaded them, and threw the first punch hitting Shawn square in the face. He bled and my knuckles bled. We both tossed back a shot and laughed about it. We were instant friends from there on out. Shawn is in Spec Ops. Just like I had been trained to be in.

  “I can’t believe you’re here. Shit! Let me buy you a drink.”

  “I’m actually here…” How could I explain this? Shawn only knew I had not re-enlisted with the Marines after my four years because of family. I had never explained to anyone how I got into BUD/S and I wasn’t going to start now. But how could I explain that I was here with my team, when it was top secret that I had even completed BUD/S and was now training with a team?

  I involuntarily turn around and look down the bar. The guys had commandeered a booth back behind the pool tables, and while most of them were there, Reed was standing directly behind me with a beer in his hand and looking at me quizzically.

  He raises an eyebrow in question while lifting the bottle to his lips.

  I turn back to Shawn. He had seen me make eye contact with Reed.

  “Shit! You’re here with a sailor!”

  I don’t know how he pegged Reed so quick, but obviously this situation requires some special extraction skills.

  “Hey Connolly. It’s not like that. “

  His blue eyes look down at me.

  “Yea, it’s not like that.” A shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

  He pushes past me and zeroes in on Reed. Pulling up in front of him he thrusts his hand out to shake.

  “Sir, Shawn Connolly, U.S. Marines.”

  Shaking the hand that was offered him, Reed responds, “Reed. U.S. Navy. How do you know our girl here?”

  I didn’t miss the “our girl.” It is perplexing and thrilling to think they might finally be treating me as one of the team.

  I fill in the blanks, “We served together in the Marines.”

  “Aha. Yes…” Reed starts, “Come meet the rest of the team.”

  What follows is a pool battle royal between some of Shawn’s marine buddies and my new team.

  I am nursing my third soda water with lime, when Reed finishes his turn at the pool table. He slides in the booth across from Shawn and I; We had been conversing over past shenanigans.

  “…Remember how we were on that training mission in Guam and Cruz fell out of the boat?”

  I snorted. “How could I forget?”

  I glanced up at Reed who is practically eye fucking a blonde at the bar. She has her back to the pool tables and unlike certain other ladies of the bar, seems to be ignoring our group. Which for a person of the female persuasion has got to be the hardest thing in the world to do. Besides the size of the guys themselves, when put together an air of strength and confidence pervades any room they are in.

  I decide to needle Reed just a little bit.

  “Yo, Reed. You get her number yet? Or you just gonna stare at her all night?”

  He turns back to me and flips me the bird.

  This sends Shawn into peals of laughter. He slides out of the booth to get another beer and take his turn at the pool table.

  Reed is already back staring at the blonde. I do a cursory inspection.

  She is dressed classy. Black pencil skirt, teal silk blouse, jacket draped across the back of her bar stool. Nursing a glass of white wine. Classy, but on the prowl.

  “You want a pointer,” I ask Reed and continue on without his affirmative, “Go up there and tell her you think her Louboutins are sexy as fuck.”

  “And what exactly is a Louboutin?” he fairly growls at me.

  “It’s a designer shoe. And she’s wearing them.”

  He looks at me skeptically.

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s the red sole of the shoe. It’s the Louboutin trademark.”

  Without further ado, he slides out of the booth. Takes two steps and turns back to me.

  “If this doesn’t work- you owe me Ryan.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  I watch as he approaches the girl. He puts one hand on the bar by her drink and turns his body so they are almost touching.

  Cagey bastard. He has his own moves.

  T-Rex slides in the seat next to me as I watch Reed’s drama unfold. T had drunk about twelve beers in the last three hours…and still seems sober.

  “What’s going on over there?”

  “Reed’s using my line to pick up that chick.”

  We both watch as Reed leans in, puts his lips
to her ear. She pulls back and starts laughing. They chat a bit more, and then she pulls out her feet out from under the barstool and shows off her shoes to Reed. He must give the appropriate compliments as she then signals the bartender to get them another round.

  I roll my eyes at how easy that was.

  10

  A text message wakes me the next day.

  Command post – 2100. Pre-training briefing.

  Command post was just our office- and well it is odd that we would have meeting at night on a Saturday, there are weirder things.

  I open command’s door ten minutes before nine. Reed and Peppers are already there, their cold beers leaving sweat rings on the conference table.

  “Hey. Reed, Peppers.” I acknowledge them.

  Just as I lay my hand on the back of a chair to pull it out and sit down, Reed comments, “Ryan. go to my office and bring me the bottle that’s in the second drawer.”

  I am the grunt, and grunts always get the grunt work.

  “Sure thing.”

  I hop to and make quick time to his desk in the side office.

  The second drawer holds a full bottle of whiskey. Might as well grab the shot glass that is sitting next to it.

  When I re-enter the conference room T-Rex and Meaty are there in addition to Reed and Peppers. Meaty still looks a bit hung over.

  I place the bottle at Reed’s right hand.

  He leans back in his chair and pushes the chair next to him out with his foot; an invitation for me to take a seat. It is between him and Peppers. A Cheshire grin spreads across his face.

  “Sit down Ryan."

  Not totally trusting, I take the chair he has so gallantly offered with his foot.

  I am reading mischievousness off these three – Meaty isn’t included because his head is currently laid out on the table in his arms.

  “Peppers,” Reed begins, “Don’t you think it’s time we initiated Petty Officer Ryan here into the ranks of Seal Team Four? “